


will be there still

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Reconciliation, Romantic Comedy, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character, Trans Newton Geiszler, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “Remember how we returned the RSVP?”Everything feels like it’s suddenly cold, like the universe is going to drop suddenly into oblivion. No one knows what’s happened, they haven’t told them. Hermann, in his own selfish sorrow, had all but forgotten about the wedding, which was really unfair. Now, he’s realizing, the wedding is in only a few weeks and…“I recall sending it back and requesting two vegetarian options, yes,” Hermann answers, his eyes flicking away from the screen for a moment, just for a reprieve.“Yeah, well. They’re expecting both of us. Together.”“Then they’ll get both of us. Separately. Or one of us can agree to miss it.”“Do you know how sad that’ll be?” Newt asks. “The press and all of our friends will have fun with that. Or disown us forever.”or two exes attend a wedding together and pretend everything's still alright





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About a month ago I had a mini emotional meltdown on twitter about an "ex boyfriends fake dating" concept that I've been dying to write ever since. (Because I love fake dating and reconciliation stories) so here it is in all its glory
> 
> As with all of my multi chapter fics, updates planned for every 2-3 days! Currently this is expected to be 4-5 chapters but I'll let you know if anything changes ahaha
> 
> Title is from "White Flag" by Dido
> 
> Enjoy!

Hermann’s no green thumb and he’s never made promises of being particularly good at tending to plants. The herb garden in the corner of his backyard is a perfect indicator of this, as the plants had been dried up and dead since early summer, if not sooner. It’s autumn now and he can’t quite bring himself to pull the dead things from the ground and compost them in the pile he’s dutifully maintained. At least that much he can do.

It’s still warm enough that he takes his morning tea on the small patio, a patch of irregular stones put in place by the previous owners of his small house. It’s horrifically snug and quaint in a way that Hermann had once thought he craved. The truth is, part of him hates the small patio table with its mocking second chair. He could have easily packed that away, but it didn’t seem like the thing to do, it would be admitting that the second chair bothered him and that was a defeat.

No doubt he looks like an older gentleman, wrapped in his robe and slippers but it’s an indulgence Hermann allows on a Saturday morning. His life seems so devoid of these sorts of indulgences as of late and he’ll do anything he can to forget about what he’d been doing on so many of his Saturday mornings only a few months past. The sooner he leaves bed, the better, because it’s the sooner her can get on with his life. At least for that day.

Today is not going to be a day where Hermann gets on with his life, though. No, today is going to be a day for Hermann to be dragged back into his previous life and he doesn’t suspect it until the video call comes in. The temptation sits in his chest when he sees the name of who is calling, when he recalls that he hasn’t had an actual conversation with said person in months, but there’s a part of him that’s always going to answer when Newt calls and he’s not sure who he’d be if he didn’t let that part of himself win over.

Before he answers he thinks about what he must look like, wrapped in his robe, he hasn’t combed through his hair yet and he’s got some biscuit crumbs on his face. It’s nothing Newt hasn’t seen before, but it seems indecent. It seems unfair.

“Hello, Newton,” Hermann answers, keeping his face alarmingly neutral. Newt’s already dressed, he’s likely been out running errands or hadn’t actually gone to sleep the night before. Newt used to stay out late on Friday nights sometimes, back in the Shatterdome days, back when he was free to do whatever he wished with his free time. As he is now.

“Hey uh...buddy. How’s it going?” Newt fidgets noticeably.

“I’m assuming this isn’t a call to check in.” They’ve spoken, really, but it’s been quick phrases and politely forced lines.

“No. I think I’ve sort of fucked up.”

Hermann winces. “And?”

“Technically we both fucked up. Maybe.”

He’s just opened his mouth to defend himself when Newt interrupts.

“Remember very early this year when we got that invitation for Mako and Raleigh’s wedding?”

“Yes, of course. It’s hanging on my fridge.”

“Remember how we returned the RSVP?”

Everything feels like it’s suddenly cold, like the universe is going to drop suddenly into oblivion. No one knows what’s happened, they haven’t told them. Hermann, in his own selfish sorrow, had all but forgotten about the wedding, which was really unfair. Now, he’s realizing, the wedding is in only a few weeks and…

“I recall sending it back and requesting two vegetarian options, yes,” Hermann answers, his eyes flicking away from the screen for a moment, just for a reprieve.

“Yeah, well. They’re expecting both of us. Together.”

“Then they’ll get both of us. Separately. Or one of us can agree to miss it.”

“Do you know how sad that’ll be?” Newt asks. “The press and all of our friends will have fun with that. Or disown us forever.”

After the breach had closed, many news outlets had wanted information on the many heroes of the moment. Despite the great scientific undertakings of their work, the articles about Hermann and Newt had focused largely on how romance had blossomed between them because of the drift. (Which was absurd, because they’d been involved for a year prior and sleeping together for longer than that, but the tabloids prefer a fairy tale story.) Combined with the much sweeter romance of Mako and Raleigh, they’d become a sort of charmed feature in the tabloids.

“I don’t really see what the issue here is,” Hermann states.

“Just that it’s gonna look really awful if a wedding is a first place we are publicly...not together.”

“But we are not together, Newton. That’s the truth.”

“Yeah and how many people know that?”

Hermann can count the amount of people who know this fact that have any investment in their lives on one hand. It happened so awkwardly and then it was too late to share the news. He certainly didn’t want to admit any level of defeat to his father, let alone their friends who actually cared about the relationship.

“Us. Your father. Your therapist.” Hermann can’t bring himself to add his own therapist to that list, because he refuses to admit to Newt that he’s going to therapy.

“And how many people at that wedding should have been told about this sooner?”

“All of them that we already know.”

“Yeah, so we’re either going to have to not go to the wedding at all-” This sounds appealing enough to Hermann, but he also knows it will arouse suspicion. And Newt is not capable of not going to a social event like this.”-or we go together, pretend we’re still together, then do a fake breakup after the fact.”

“Let me try to understand this. You want us to lie to several of our friends rather than just admit the truth because you feel bad about lying to them in the first place?”

“Dude, do you know how much of a buzzkill it’ll be to have one of the Great PPDC Romances announce they’re not together at the wedding of the other couple?”

“I think you’re putting too much stock into this.” Hermann’s ready to turn off the video call, maybe throw his phone into the yard.

“I just don’t want to show up to a wedding and have people think we failed.”

“We did fail, Newton, and that’s life.”

That’s when Hermann does end the call. Except Newt dials again immediately and, while he lets the phone ring for a moment too long, he clicks back into it.

“I don’t appreciate you calling our relationship a failure,” Newt says immediately.

“I don’t appreciate the man who packed up and left me without a word telling me how to define our relationship. That’s bold of you.”

Newt’s face softens into an expression Hermann doesn’t think he deserves to have. While Newt should feel guilty about what he did, he shouldn’t be allowed to look sad about it. That’s a right he lost when he chose to handle their relationship the way he did.

“Just think about it. We either go separately and have dozens of questions and pitying looks, we don’t go at all, or we do this and people look at us like we’re the same old weirdos, we drink some wine and have a nice time seeing people we saved the world with get married. Then two weeks later we tell everyone we ended things.”

“People here know you’re living in your own place.”

“I don’t really freely share with my colleagues about my personal life, Herms.”

“Don’t. You’re lucky I let you use my first name.” Hermann’s also doubtful Newt doesn’t overshare with his colleagues. Unless the guilt is that deep-seated and intense for him. He wonders if there’s any other emotion mixed in Newt’s feelings and he knows the exact thing he hopes Newt feels every day of his life. Regret. That’s a cruel feeling and one he hates that’s taken root in him, he should want Newt to be happy with his life, regardless. Maybe his love for him was always damaged.

“Couples do it all the time, is all I’m saying. Go to the wedding, put on a smiling face, then go back to not talking to each other.”

“That’s hardly healthy.”

“They’ve already shelled out probably like fifty dollars a plate on us and I may have booked a hotel room.”

“Newton.”

“C’mon, buddy. Just be my date for one little wedding?”

Something in Hermann feels like it’s shriveling up, dying in his chest. He would have been perfectly content with not going to the wedding, with wasting someone else’s precious money, but now he has to go. If nothing else, he needs the closure. He needs to see Newt to say goodbye, even if it’s all a sham. Even if he’s so angry at him he could scream, so hurt by him he could cry. Has cried.

“Fine, but then I don’t want to see you ever again, understood?”

“Sure thing.”

What Hermann actually means is he wants to wake up next to Newt every day for the rest of his life, but he can’t say that anymore. So he’ll settle with cutting him out of his life completely.

 

The thing about this particular wedding is it isn’t actually one “little” wedding. There’s a guest list of about two hundred people, many of whom Hermann and Newt know from the PPDC. They can’t exactly act as though they don’t know other people and hide in a corner for the duration of the wedding, nor would Hermann particularly want to. Among the guests will be many people who he considers friends or at the very least thinks very fondly of.

There’s also the small matter of the fact that they wedding is down in New York City of all places. When Hermann sensibly suggests that they take the train or fly down, Newt insists they’ll drive down, it’s not such a long drive and he’s sure his beat-up car will manage just fine. This means Hermann has to cancel Thursday and Friday classes for a wedding where he’s expected to arrive on a Thursday night for a Saturday ceremony. Apparently Tendo’s arranged some sort of “we saved the world, let’s talk about it and get drunk” party that Newt insists on attending on the Friday, which means he’ll have to deal with a hungover Newt on the dreaded wedding day.

Overall it’s enough to make Hermann want to run away, but he doesn’t. He stands on his small front porch and waits for Newt to pick him up. He even does his best to forget that it’s supposed to be _ their _ front porch and  _ their  _ small house with their backyard garden and master suite with the soaker tub that’s large enough for three people.

(“Three whole people, Herms!” Newt had exclaimed, slipping into the empty tub to illustrate the size. “We could fit a whole other person in here.”

“I think two will be enough,” he’d said then. Because the two of them would always be enough.

“Why don’t you slip inside with me and we can find out?”)

The car ride is alarmingly quiet until Newt’s car breaks down about half an hour outside of Boston and they both end up standing by the side of the road waiting for a tow truck.

“If we’d taken the train,” Hermann begins, “this never would have happened. Now we need to get a tow and a rental and we’re not going to get to New York until very late.”

“We don’t need to be there until tomorrow,” Newt retorts, fumbling with his phone. He’d just screeched with the rental car company for about fifteen minutes promising that they’d be there shortly to pick something up and negotiating a lower price.

“The hotel is on your credit card, so I fully intend to spend my evening ordering room service.”

“I’m sure you can find another way to drain my bank account this weekend, you’re a smart man.”

Newt sags against the car then, looking defeated. The impulse to put a comforting arm around him surges up in Hermann, but he knows he can’t give in. Even if Hermann wanted to give into that urge, he has no indication that Newt would be receptive. While he is an incredibly tactile man, that’s only with people he wants to touch. Hermann’s never been given any indication if Newt even thinks well of him any longer. Well, he supposes Newt wouldn’t ask a man he hates to be his fake wedding date.

“We can take the train home,” Hermann states. “To save you the cost of keeping the rental car for the weekend. I don’t know why you insisted on taking the car in the first place.”

He watches as Newt shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at a rock on the ground. They’re parked in the parking lot of some atrocious diner that seems to be directly from the 1950’s.

“I know you don’t like to be in a vehicle for too long in case your leg starts acting up,” Newt answers, staring down at the ground. “You can’t get off a train, and you definitely can’t get off a plane.”

“We’ve flown from China to here before and I’m an adult who can handle a slightly uncomfortable situation.” Still, the consideration does soften something inside Hermann.

“Remind me to never be considerate of you again, alright?” Hermann can tell that Newt is hiding a smile, nonetheless.

“We should set some ground rules for how we want to be perceived and what we feel comfortable doing.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s probably...wise.”

“You may hold my hand, but any physical displays of affection beyond that are not allowed.”

The rule almost seems foolish, given that they’ve both touched just about every part of each other there is to touch. But that was in the past, and the last thing Hermann needs is any part of his body betraying him into thinking he can have that sort of happiness again. He won’t allow it.

“Well that’s pretty straightforward,” Newt answers. “Can I call you Herms?”

“There’s really no need to, unless it feels necessary.”

“And pet names?”

“I didn’t like the pet names when we were together, why would I allow them now?”

Newt frowns. “You’re lying and you know it.”

It’s true, he is lying. He likes being called them and he loves using them. 

“Fine, limited pet names. Hand holding is acceptable. I suppose given your tendency to touch in general, brief touches are allowed.”

They lock eyes for a moment and something unspoken passes in the look, but in the next moment it’s completely gone.

 

The rest of the car ride is mostly uneventful, even if it takes over four hours to work through the ordeal with the tow truck and the broken down car. Newt insists on listening to his music, which is loud and abrasive and oddly comforting. It’s music that Newt likes to sing along to, which keeps them from talking. If there’s a few songs one or both of them skip past because of associations, neither of them comment on it.

When they arrive at the hotel, it’s nearly eleven at night and definitely too late for Hermann to enact his plan of overspending Newt’s money on room service. They’d already eaten some nearly burnt fast food on the drive down and Hermann’s stomach feels oddly unsettled. That’ll be the easier reason to dwell on than the way his heart clenches when he realizes he will have to share a bed with Newt.

Newt’s already slipping out of his clothes and down to his boxers the moment they step in the door of the hotel room. When he throws himself on the bed, he’s clearly not putting much thought into how nearly nude he is.

“Another ground rule, Newton,” Hermann explains as he unpacks his bag and Newt’s (the last thing they need right now are badly rumpled rental suits.) “Put some clothes on.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Newt opens his mouth as if to speak twice before he says something. “Alright, alright. You’re no fun, but alright.”

“Oh, I know, I’ve ruined all of your fun by agreeing to come here with you.” Hermann holds out a t-shirt from Newt’s bag for him. “The boxers can stay, I suppose.”

Hermann knows that Newt sleeps best with as few clothes as possible, he’s always so warm under the covers. There’s no reason to impose modesty in a way that’s going to make Newt physically uncomfortable. Newt sits up and slips into the t-shirt. It’s one of his many band shirts, emblazoned with the logo of some early 2000’s band Hermann is sure he’d know if he heard but otherwise remains clueless about. He used to steal these shirts nonetheless, for his own comfort while sleeping.

“The party doesn’t start until four tomorrow, so I was gonna go out into the city for a few hours,” Newt says. “Do you wanna come with me or stay here?”

He pauses, mid-smoothing out a shirt. The hotel is nice, but it’s in New York City, so it’s still rather small. There’s really no reason he can’t be friendly with Newt for the next two days and guard himself from his feelings. After all, Newt’s promised he won’t ever have to see him again. It’ll be closure when it’s done.

“I suppose I could go with you, if you don’t mind the company.”

“Herms, I never mind your company, despite what I might say,” Newt answers, a bit too easily. He shouldn’t be allowed to say things like this so easily, so plainly.

“You could have fooled me,” Hermann snaps, turning to look Newt directly in the eye. Newt’s expression shifts, realizes why what he said may seem inappropriate. In the next moment, he’s up and headed to the bathroom for his nighttime routine.

Screwing his eyes shut and swallowing hard, Hermann takes a few moments to collect himself. Nothing will be accomplished by letting his feelings get the best of him. Nothing will change. He pulls out his own night clothes, warm flannel bottoms and a t-shirt and sits on the edge of the bed while he waits for Newt to return so he can take his turn.

“I’m sorry,” Newt says from the doorway when he emerges. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m-”

“Please let’s not talk about this tonight, Newton, I would like to sleep.” Hermann rises to his feet and brushes past him, shutting the door firmly behind him.

When he returns, freshly showered and in his pajamas, he’s in a better mood. Newt’s laying on his side, facing towards the window, and scrolling through his phone.

“You still wake up early?” Newt asks, not looking over at him.

“My alarm will go off at precisely seven am, I hope that’s not an issue.”

He settles on the edge of the bed again, reaching for the lotion he’s set out there to rub some onto his hands and arms.

“Ah, the peppermint lotion,” Newt says pleasantly. “Can I have some?”

Newt sits up and holds out his hands. Hermann turns and squeezes a dollop of the lotion onto his hands. He watches as Newt rubs it along his arms, rubbing the excess off on his legs under the covers.

“You could buy lotion for yourself,” Hermann observes, lifting the covers on his side of the bed and slipping his legs underneath. When he’s settled comfortably, he switches off the light. 

Taking the cue, Newt switches off his own light and slides down under the covers. They’re both laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Newt drums his hand on his stomach and exhales a deep breath.

“What do you want to do in the city tomorrow?” Newt asks, turning to his side.

“You’re the one who has the plan.”

“I was just gonna wing it.”

“Of course you were. Perhaps we could go to the Hall of Science and point out everything that’s incorrect or oversimplified.”

“That’s the spirit there, Hermann.”

He’s not sure if the sound that escapes him is a huff or a laugh. Most of him hopes it’s a laugh. This weekend will go over spectacularly if he learns to find the humor in it.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning is surprisingly less awkward than it could be, than it should be. Newt’s still asleep when Hermann’s alarm goes off, curled to his side and facing away from him. Hermann wonders how many years it would take to kill the instinct to curl around him and wrap his arms around Newt’s waist, if he could ever forget what it meant to press his face in the juncture of Newt’s shoulder and feel every warm inch of his skin.

It’s only been four months, he reminds himself, it’s normal to still be getting over someone during that time. He will recover and he will find a new happiness in his life. There’s something waiting for him somewhere, no doubt. When the academic year is over (though it’s just begun) he’ll find a job somewhere else, someplace warmer and with less personal connection to Newt. He’ll teach a whole new generation of scientific minds and build something good on his own, something that’s entirely Hermann’s.

And then, maybe if he’s very lucky, he’ll start to forget what it is to love someone so fully, so devastatingly much that it’s become a part of him. It’s cruel, he thinks, the way Newt’s been torn from his life. The fact that Newt, with his surgeon’s hands, didn’t have the courtesy to cut himself out carefully so no trace was left. 

Hermann has to leave the bed, because otherwise he’ll let his emotions get the best of him. He changes, this time in the bedroom area, because he doubts Newt will wake enough to see, and slips out of the room to have some tea at a nearby Starbucks. After sitting for about an hour he returns to the hotel with a black coffee and slice of pumpkin pound cake for Newt, who’s seated on top of the covers watching television.

“I brought you breakfast,” Hermann sits on his side of the bed and hands over the items.

“Oh, that’s very nice of you. Even paying New York City Starbucks prices for me.” Newt smiles at him and takes a sip of the still too hot coffee. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Don’t get too used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hermann.” Newt places the coffee cup down. “After i finish this do you want to go out like we talked about? See some of the city?”

“Of course, I don’t see why I’d have changed my mind.”

Newt looks down at the pound cake resting in his lap but doesn’t say anything. Hermann wonders if Newt is expecting him to punish him properly for what he’s done, but there’s no point. Making Newt feel profoundly worse isn’t going to change what he did. They sit quietly for the remainder of breakfast.

By the time they venture out into the city, they’re both more up to small talk, rehashing old favorite topics or even daring to ask about new changes in their lives. They’ve just stopped for lunch at a pizza parlor when Newt brings up the topic Hermann’s been dreading most.

“Have you been er-” Newt starts, between bites of his pizza. “Have you been seeing anyone? Romantically?”

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be here with you, Newton. I do have my limitations.” Hermann finds the fact his slice is extremely greasy unappealing, but he manages by folding it in half.

“I’m not,” Newt responds, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I’m not either. Same, I wouldn’t have done this if I- well, you know. I’ve gone on dates but nothing that’s gone anywhere.”

Four months suddenly seems like a painfully short amount of time. But Newt doesn’t owe Hermann mourning their relationship and it doesn’t diminish it if Newt’s chosen to move on quickly.

“I have not. Let’s leave this conversation at that, shall we?” Hermann suggests

“Probably a good idea.”

Hermann does wonder what’ll happen if anyone catches word of the fact that Newt’s gone out with other people if they’re allegedly still involved, but he doesn’t want to think it through. They could claim an open relationship, or a trial separation. Or they could let the whole, awful truth tumble out in front of the world:  _ Newton Geiszler doesn’t love me anymore. _

He’ll cope. He’s here to learn how to deal with this reality and he’s tired of drowning in it, so he’s not going to anymore. Instead he’s going to eat his greasy food, smile at Newt across the table, and spend the early afternoon walking through New York City and talking about pop culture references only the two of them seem to understand.

 

They walk into Tendo’s party hand in hand. He’s rented out a private room in a rather upscale bar and Hermann’s not sure what his current job is paying him, but for not the first time Hermann laments the low pay of working in academia. Newt’s hand is a bit sweaty in his, but otherwise Hermann wouldn’t be able to tell that he’s nervous.

“Oh, hey!” Tendo calls across the room, swaggering over to both of them with two glasses of wine in hand. “It’s our K-Sci lovebirds. How have you two been?”

Hermann glances over at Newt but Newt’s staring forward, already performing the part of doting lover.

“We’ve been great, man. Nice to get away for a long weekend and, of course, celebrate the love of two of the world’s best.” Newt angles his head towards where Mako and Raleigh are seated together at a bar. Neither of them are the sort for a lively party.

“And what about you two? Any wedding bells in the future?”

Newt’s pallor drops to ghastly pale and then he’s flushing with a deep embarrassment. 

“Marriage isn’t really our style,” Hermann cuts in. “Not that we don’t appreciate what it means for some people, but I think we don’t need it. For everyone to know how we feel about each other.”

“Ever the romantic, Gottlieb.” Tendo claps Hermann on the shoulder and makes sure they’re both drinking their wine before he walks away.

“Do you think lying’s going to be easier or harder if we’re drunk?” Newt asks, lifting his glass to his lips.

“I think we’ll have a better time of it if we’re drunk, but it’s easier to let the truth slip out.”

For a moment Newt looks like he’s debating something, then he downs half the glass of wine in one gulp. Hermann follows his example. It’s only once they’ve done this that they realize they should do a toast and while it’s a bit late for that, they still clink their glasses together. In that moment, they enter the unspoken agreement to drink and enjoy their evening as much as they can.

The drinking, if nothing else, is convenient because it makes touching each other or standing close together easier. Hermann doesn’t feel his inhibitions or his desire to keep from being hurt, all he feels is how nice it is to hold a hand in his hand, or to have Newt’s arm wrapped around his waist. It’s temporary, but it’s still achingly beautiful.

They stand in that sort of uncanny unison they’d adopted after drifting together as they make small talk. The person they’re talking to is- Hermann thinks- a J Tech Officer, but he’s not exactly sure. It becomes apparent just how much they used to be wrapped up in their own little world when confronted with faces that should be familiar but are interchangeable with any stranger’s. Newt’s arm has been around his waist for half of the event so far and Hermann stays close to him simply for that pleasure.

“I teach at MIT now,” Newt says, proudly. “And Hermann here is teaching at Harvard, if you’ll believe it. He’s that fancy.” The swell, the marginal increase of pride, in his voice is palpable.

“That’s fantastic,” The J Tech Officer answers. “Do you live in Boston?”

“We do,” Hermann cuts in. “For the time being. We’d agreed to try it for a few years and then if we put down roots, we’ll stay, if not we’ll leave.”

“That seems...like an interesting choice.”

“I don’t see the need to put down roots, as long as I’ve got the right person beside me, eh?” Newt turns to Hermann with a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. He wants to kiss him and beg him to love him again, but he can’t possibly do that now. Or ever.

“I didn’t even think you two were that serious,” The J Tech Officer continues.

“We’re very serious, before we were so busy with trying to help save the world that we didn’t have time to be as serious as we’d like, but now we’re incredibly so,” Hermann answers. He’s always been serious about Newt, and he had once thought Newt was always serious about him. Perhaps he was mistaken.

Hermann’s not certain, but he thinks Newt squeezes his hip then, a familiar and reassuring gesture. Something Newt would do when Hermann said something he liked, a signal of that love that’s certainly been lost. But it’s subconsciously here, isn’t it? Love doesn’t just disappear, it doesn’t fade away like it never happened. Something of it is bound to linger and he searches out for that, longing to make it go on. He leans a bit more on Newt than he had been previously, enjoying the proximity for what it’s worth.

“Do you want another glass of wine?” Newt offers. “Let’s go get one, check in with the new Mr Mori before he goes off to his rehearsal dinner.”

“Alright, darling. Of course.” Hermann smiles at him and they hold hands as they walk to the bar. It’s a facsimile of a relationship but it feels so very tender and dear and like maybe, just maybe it could be something real if they manage to peel back enough layers. Is Hermann able to risk this? Can he venture to ask?

Before they get to either Raleigh or Mako, they’re both waving their goodbyes, telling everyone that they’ll see them tomorrow. That’s when the party goes into full swing, naturally, and Tendo brings out an outlandishly large tray of shots. Everyone erupts into joyful cheer and even Hermann, despite his usually sensible nature, downs two of the shots. Then possibly a few others as he talks to these friends turned strangers.

“I like this side of you, Herms,” Newt says, as they sit around a table with Tendo, Herc Hansen, and two J Tech Officers who look possibly too young to even be drinking.

“Which side of me?” Hermann offers, knocking his shot against Herc’s in a mock toast. Herc, as is only typical of him, looks fairly impassive, the stoic nature of a Marshal who’s lost a lot, but with a sly smile playing on his mouth. The times certainly have changed.

“The fun side. You’ve been so uptight lately.”

“Trouble in the bedroom, brother?” Tendo says, elbowing Newt jovially.

“The two of us? Never.” Newt gives Hermann a pointed look and he feels his face flush. Suddenly the very, very human implications of being without Newt for four months weigh on him in a way he hadn’t allowed them to previously.

“Let’s talk about something more appropriate, hmm?” Herc cuts in, taking a swig of his beer. 

“An excellent idea, Marshal,” Hermann supplies and debates if another shot is a good or a terrible idea. He decides it’s a terrible idea and takes one anyway.

He feels loose, comfortable in his skin. In the dim feeling of drunkenness, it feels like he’s gone home. Like everything’s the way it’s always supposed to have been. Life at the Shatterdome was so easy, minus the consistent threat of the world ending, because everyone had such simple relationships. No complications.

When he lifts another shot to take it, Newt ducks his hand over it.

“Hey, bud. Let’s think about heading back to the hotel, hmm? We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and i know you want to enjoy it.”

“Please do not condescend to me, Newton. I think we’d both agree that condescending is entirely my job.”

Newt laughs and stands offering his hand to Hermann. As he thinks he’ll always do, Hermann takes it and stands beside him. They leave with their arms around each other. This isn’t necessary, but Hermann likes it far too much to argue.

 

The chill in the air is enough to sober Hermann up marginally and he’s quiet in the cab ride back to their hotel, resting his hand on Newt’s knee even if he knows he shouldn’t do that. Newt doesn’t seem to notice or mind, though, so he allows himself this indulgence. They were friends once, his mind supplies, or something like it, so it’s fair enough that they share a friendly touch now and then.

Back in the hotel, Hermann carefully toes off his shoes, staring at the far wall away from Newt. He knows, without seeing him, that Newt’s already dramatically thrown himself onto the other side of the bed. His hideous Doc Martens are in a heap on the floor. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone. Hermann doesn’t need to see Newt to know what state he’s in. There are other unknowns that tug at his heart more firmly.

“Newton?” he asks, his hands clenching against his trousers.

“Yeah huh?” Newt answers, rolling over on his side of the bed.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Scheiße, Hermann. You can’t just ask a guy that out of nowhere.”

Hermann pivots one of his hands on the bed, turns to face Newt where he’s rolled over on his stomach.

“I think at this point in time, I’ve got a right to know,” Hermann says as coolly as his loose tongue will allow. “I think you could do me the courtesy of telling me what I did wrong. What injustice I’d done to you.”

“Herms-” Newt begins softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So you just left me because you woke up one day with an urge to be single? To sow your wild oats around Boston?”

“No! It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what, pray tell, made it so important for you to leave without a single word?”

“It seemed like the easiest way.” Newt sits up and runs a hand through his hair. It’s unfair that he still looks so attractive like this. He’s selfish. He’s an awful little man and Hermann should have never trusted with any personal part of himself. “You’d been getting colder, more distant after the ghost drift had started to fade and we’d started to settle in at the new house. And you’d been talking about that guy you work with, Dr...Dr Clark? You were talking about him all the time and I’d just started to assume and I knew-”

“You thought I was cheating on you.”

“No! Yes, sort of, I guess? Like intellectually, you were so excited about his work and he was an attractive guy and I just had...I wanted you to be free to pursue whatever made you happy.”

“You’re a moron, Newton. A complete and utter moron if you left me for such a feeble reason, if you threw away an entire life because I  _ admired _ another man. You could have talked to me about it.” Hermann’s hands are shaking. Of all the reasons to discard something so important-

“I was going through a rough patch emotionally and I-”

“You were being selfish!” Hermann snaps. “You were thinking about how sad it was for poor Newton that I didn’t pay you as much attention as I used to and woe on you for that, you poor, pathetic man.”

“Hey, dude,” Newt puffs up a bit, narrows a glare at Hermann. “I don’t think I deserve that.”

Hermann stares at him for a long moment. Perhaps pathetic is a bit harsh, perhaps there's a more tender way to have this conversation. But it's happening now and he can't stop it.

“Apologies if it hurts you to realize how selfish you are,” Hermann continues. “Don't you think this is selfish? Dragging me down here for your charade because you know if our friends know the truth, they'll think you're the bad guy in this situation. That I was wrong for not telling them, but you were wrong for leaving.”

“I didn't want to-”

“To look bad. You didn't want to look bad and you didn't care what that did to me emotionally. The same way you stopped caring four months ago.”

“Hermann, I have  _ never  _ stopped caring about you.”

Newt reaches for his hand, taking it in his own. It would be so painfully easy to forgive, to see where this gesture is leading, but Hermann's anger seems too raw. His nostrils flare and he jerks his hand away.

“Using that bloody line on me now is selfish, too it's selfish and cowardly because you don't want to confront anything real. It's right up there with sending your own damn husband divorce papers in the mail rather than facing what you've done to your life together.” He should have known then it was all too good to be true, all some big secret that they’d sworn not to tell because it made it more romantic. All it did was make it easier for Newt to leave.

“I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I fucked up, I should have come to you, shoulda talked about it.”

“Yes, you did indeed fuck up, Newton. Fantastically. Irredeemably.”

“Hermann, I haven't-”

“I don't want to hear it. I'm going to bed.”

He stands then, not bothering with his cane on the way to the bathroom. What he needs more than anything else right now is a scalding hot shower and for Newt to disappear into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when I've been saying ex boyfriends fake dating I've technically been lying to everyone a bit?


	3. Chapter 3

_ March _

They don’t have nearly enough furniture to furnish the house, despite its small size. The guest bedroom is completely barren except for Newt’s instruments that line the walls and the living room is home to a couch and a television on the ground. It’s an unseasonably warm day but it’s still far too cold for Newt to be out in the backyard for as long as he’s been. Hermann peels open the back door, steps just outside of the house in his slippers.

“Newton, come back inside, it’s too cold for that.” Hermann frowns deeply. “Whatever it is can wait.”

“I’m planting us a herb garden, Hermann. So we can have fresh herbs to use when we cook,” Newt answers, turning back to look at him.

“We don’t cook, darling.” He finds himself wrapping his arms around his torso to keep warm. He feels a bit like an annoyed housewife, watching her husband make poor decisions.

“We could cook, if we wanted to.” 

Newt steps across the small backyard towards Hermann and kisses the corner of his mouth. He’s got big gloves on and they’re filthy, but he’s careful to keep them away from Hermann, which he’s incredibly grateful for.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the year to be planting things?” Hermann asks.

“I’m a biologist, dude. I know this sort of stuff.”

Hermann snorts. “None of your degrees are in agriculture, you know. I don’t think any of your six PhDs make you qualified for-” Hermann half forgets what Newt’s excessive degrees are in, and he suspects sometimes Newt does as well.

“The internet wouldn’t lie to me about these sorts of things. Besides, I could always try again. As long as we’ve got the soil, we can grow whatever we want.”

Smiling to himself, Newt peels off his gloves, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground. He wraps his arms around Hermann’s torso. Usually, Newt is warm to the touch, alive with energy and heat. Today his skin is clammy and cold and Hermann’s protective instinct wants to drag him in front of their fireplace and insist that he stays indoors until the world thaws the rest of the way.

“Come inside, Newton. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“I just want to do this right, Herms.”

If the words alone weren’t enough to make Hermann (metaphorically) weak at the knees, the traditional Newt smile that accompanies it sure would be. He brushes his thumb against Newt’s cold cheek, a gesture of familiarity and his regard for him.

“I think we’re doing splendidly so far, liebling. And come spring, the herbs will grow.”

“Is that how you say it?” Newt nearly screeches as he pulls away. “With the h? Dude, that sounds awful.”

“Oh, my apologies. I will attempt to butcher the English language by using American pronunciation.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, you already do it with German all the time.”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted to sleep on the floor of the guest room so badly,” Hermann retorts, taking a step back into the house.

“You know you’d be very lonely and cold if you didn’t have me in your bed to keep you warm at night.”

“You can be replaced.”

That statement does the trick and Newt follows him back inside. They spend the rest of the morning safe and warm on the couch, reviewing furniture for the rest of their apartment online. Hermann’s surprised at how much he likes this, the domestic ease of his new life with Newt here in Boston. He hopes it’ll never end.

 

“It’s snowing,” Hermann observes as he slides back into bed the next morning. It’s still too early to be awake, to be out of the security of bed. “It might be a blizzard, enough to close schools.”

“Are you hoping for a snow day?” Newt mumbles, still half asleep.

“I’m just appreciating the fact that we live in a beautiful world where things like blizzards and snow days and lie ins with handsome men can still happen.”

“Big ole romantic, are you?” 

Newt’s refusing to open his eyes and Hermann will have none of that. In a moment, he’s completely under the covers, kissing down Newt’s body.

“Herms?” Newt asks sleepily and lifts the covers. “You alright down there?”

“Put the blanket back down, Newton. I know precisely what I’m doing down here.”

“You’ll suffocate.”

Hermann can’t help but snort and he has a lewd joke on the tip of his tongue, but he really has better use for his tongue then. He spreads Newt’s thighs and licks and fingers and sucks at him until he’s squirming and definitely simultaneously more awake and more tired than he was before. Newt’s come twice before he even considers relenting, because Hermann appreciates a job well done.

Emerging from the covers at length, Newt runs a hand down the side of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, soft and tender and loving.

“Do you need anything from me?” Newt questions. “Or want! You don’t gotta need it, but you know what I mean.”

“No, I honestly just wanted to do that for you. I’m sure you’ll pay me back later today.”

The universities do close that morning, and they spend the remainder of the morning in bed, half asleep in each other’s arms. At noon, Newt follows Hermann into the kitchen when he leaves to make lunch and returns the favor from the morning, enthusiastically kneeling on their kitchen floor.

 

The invitation arrives two weeks later. Slowly they’ve started to furnish their small home properly. Newt’s stopped into several secondhand shops on his way home from work and returned with some oddity and Hermann insisted that they go to IKEA to obtain some more practical items. The house had seemed quiet without all the clutter they’d gotten used to in their shared lab, but it’s slowly becoming a home and that’s the most beautiful thing of all.

“This seems rather...sudden,” Hermann says, reading the invitation over Newt’s shoulder. They’re supposed to be washing the dinner dishes but Newt’s looking for any distraction he can find.

“They were in each other’s heads, and they sort of went through a big ordeal together,” Newt responds and Hermann can see the way his cheek flushes. 

“I suppose you’re right. There’s something more romantic about this, anyway.”

Hermann settles an arm around Newt’s midsection and nuzzles against his neck. Having a home where they can touch freely is paradise and it breaks down all of Hermann’s walls about physical affection. For so long they were limited to being close like this in either of their rather small bedrooms and then limited by Hermann’s own rules about public displays of affection. Certainly he’s started to rethink all of this. 

“We’re gonna go, right?” Newt asks, turning around in his arms. “Get spectacularly drunk and tell everyone how we’re the better couple than they are.”

The TIME article had just gone live, profiling many of those who were paramount ot Operation Pitfall. They’d agreed to a photoshoot down in New York City when they’d first arrived in the states and neither of them were prepared for how much the article focused on their romantic life. Hermann found the Daily Mail article about it the most intriguing, trying to infer they were BDSM lifestylers which, while a valid lifestyle, did not describe their relationship at all.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t go, it’s just down in New York, we can easily make a weekend of it, and we’ll want the break come October anyway.”

Newt kisses him, winding his arms around his shoulders as he does. He lets the invitation fall to the ground and while Hermann may frown against his mouth he certainly doesn’t stop the kissing. It’s only after they’ve been kissing for some time that he realizes Newt’s been swaying, they’ve been swaying together to some music that Hermann can’t hear.

“It’s kinda sweet,” Newt says. “The two kids getting married.”

“Do you want to get married?” Hermann asks abruptly, before he’s really sure what he’s saying at all.

“I mean, I guess theoretically I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of marriage to you-”

“No, Newton.” Hermann shakes his head, stills their awkward dance. “I’m asking you to marry me.” Because in that moment he can’t imagine not being married to Newt, which is absurd because until he saw this invitation it wasn’t in his head at all. Now it’s all-consuming.

“Yeah.” Newt smiles at him and kisses him again, soft and quick. “Let’s get married but like- let’s not do this fancy big wedding shit.”

Hermann has to return the smile. “Let’s go down to the courthouse tomorrow, make it legal, and we’ll talk about what we want to do with our life together after that.”

“Wow, you’re like- you’re very serious about this.”

“Is that a problem?” Hermann takes a step back. Sure, they’ve been together for some time, but maybe this is too soon. Maybe this is the wrong step.

“No!” Newt exclaims, reaching for him and pulling him close again. “No, no. I just didn’t think that was possible. I’d assumed that you didn’t really want to get married.”

“I don’t think marriage defines a relationship but I like the idea of being yours, nonetheless, in that very official way.”

“Do you think we could do it in secret?” Newt says. “Not forever, just- give us some quiet time before our friends or the tabloids catch on. Besides, I don’t want to steal the kids’ thunder, because we are the more likable lovers.”

“Likable is not a word I’d use-”

“Shush, keep dancing with me, Herms.”

“I can’t dance for long, you know.”

“Long enough, dude.”

The most surprising thing about dancing with Newt is how easy it is to let him take the lead, to trust him to be considerate of his leg and his tendency to find dancing tedious. Newt anticipates his feelings and his needs always.

“I love you,” Hermann says, because it’s one of those moments when it absolutely has to be said.

“Love you too. Always. I mean that, you know? When I say always I-” Newt’s voice cracks and Hermann’s not sure what to do with this sort of emotion- happiness that’s too much to bear. “I mean past, present, and future. And I hope you know that, I hope you know that I’m super fucking lucky to have you.”

“Newton, you’re being a romantic sap.”

“But you love me always, too?”

“Oh, Newton, with unflinching, unfailing loyalty, I will love you for all of my days.”

Newt laughs then but it’s not mocking or cruel, it’s earnest and honest and happy. “Now who’s the big sap, Hermann?”

 

_ June _

The romance of the early days in their new house fades. The furniture starts to fill every corner of the space and it becomes more and more of a home. They spend the first month of marriage calling each other husband and exchanging kisses every time they so much think about marriage, but then they fade into a settled domestic life. Hermann relishes in it, in a way he can’t articulate fully to Newt. It’s hard to explain to Neewt that he’s never had a happy family, a home life like this, which is absurd. Newt’s been in his brain and must have some sort of idea of this, some concept that Hermann feels at home with Newt in a way he’s never been with anyone before.

But Newt doesn’t know, and that’s the truth. Newt plants his herbs and most of them die and he plants replacements that live. There’s a tenderness to the care he gives them, cultivating the life in his small patch of grass. On weekend mornings, Hermann sits out and watches him garden, even if it’s too cold to sit outside for long. He just wants to be around him, always, and he doesn’t care if that makes him a romantic sap.

The problem with Newt not knowing, is Newt doesn’t understand. Or Newt makes his own choices. Or Newt makes mistakes. Or Newt leaves. Hermann’s just returned home from a long day of work, speaking at a conference locally to a group of disinterested undergraduate students who only want to ask about his time with the PPDC. He removes his shoes in the doorway, carefully placing them on the shoe rack by the front door. Newt’s boots are missing from their usual spot, and he wonders if Newt’s gone out. It’s not uncommon for him to be out at this time, usually running an errand or grabbing them some dinner.

Hermann settles on the couch with the book he’s been reading and he waits, in case Newt’s gone off to grab them dinner. When Newt’s not home by eight, he gives him a call, but he doesn’t pick up. That’s not abnormal, he shouldn’t worry, but he does. He stands, begins to pace the living room floor, before he finds this foolish. Passing through every room of the house, he searches for some trace of Newt, some evidence that he’s home and present, but there’s nothing.

No, there’s worse than nothing, there’s two open and partially emptied dresser drawers, a leather jacket taken off of a hanger, a toothbrush taken out of the holder. Clues Hermann willfully tries to find a way to misinterpret as he calls Newt and it rings through to his voicemail yet again.

“Newton, it’s me. Of course it’s me. You know this. Please pick up, will you? I’m concerned. Do you have a conference that I forgot about? Have I- have I done something wrong?” He hates the way his voice cracks when he says that final line. They’d fought that morning, but surely it cannot have been that serious to Newt. “Is this about the fight from earlier? I didn’t mean anything I said, I think you’re right and we should stay in Boston. Please stay in Boston. With me. Newton. Newt. Darling, please don’t do anything foolish, please don’t-”

Before he does or says anything foolish, he ends the message. Newt can do with it what he will.

 

_ August _

At first he’s confused when he receives the envelope in the mail. To the best of his knowledge, Newt is still in the city, so he doesn’t know why he wouldn’t, at the very least, leave it on the front porch for Hermann. It’s a thick envelope, definitely a waste of postage if he could have dropped it off. Hermann’s not particularly keen to see him these days, anyway, and the few times he has have been painfully awkward and uncomfortable for both of them.

The mystery seems too much to bear and he tears into the envelope, dropping the papers like they’re poisonous the moment he sees what they are. Surely, Newt cannot mean this. Things are rough these days, Newt is not with him now, but they’ll make up. They’ll find each other again when the time is right and resume. The thought of this being his reality forever leaves him inconsolable but hollow, beyond the reach of the emotions he’s been trying to cope with every day for the past two months of their separation. Newt’s new apartment is just a short drive away, he should go there and demand to speak, demand that Newt comes back home and stays home for good.

Instead, he braces himself against the couch so he can collect the papers from where they’ve fallen to the ground. It hurts his leg to lean over like this, but it must be done. There’s no one to assist him, after all. When they’re collected and in the correct order, he shuffles through them at his kitchen table, reading through all of the fine print. Newt wants nothing more of him, it seems. A clean break from their relationship. He’ll give Newt what he wants, of course. 

He follows the cues from Newt, follows through the paperwork to the signature line. There he sees the familiar, oddly neat signature. The same that’s on the letters he keeps in a box in the back of his closet, the same on the certificate he keeps filed away in his desk. This is, perhaps, the last time in his life Hermann will see this name written like this, so he cherishes the moment before adding his own looping signature beneath it.

The next day, he drops the envelope with the completed paperwork inside of it at the front desk of Newt’s apartment building. It’s the end and he’ll move on from that.


	4. Chapter 4

The weight around his waist is familiar and firm, as is the warmth pressed along his back. Hermann knows if he stays mostly asleep, he doesn’t have to think about it. When he returned from his shower the night before, Newt at least had the decency to pretend to be asleep, though he’s certain he wasn’t sleeping at all. Now, Newt’s holding him, in the hotel bed they’re sharing, because there’s really no other way to describe what’s occurring.

It only takes about three weeks to make something a habit, Hermann knows, so it should be argued that four months is more than enough time to break a habit. If Newt’s to be believed, it’s not as though he’s been sharing a bed or holding anyone in his arms at night. Here they are, though, somehow ending up slotted together in the course of the night in that same old familiar way. When they lived in the Shatterdome, they slept like this out of necessity, but then they’d continued because it was comfortable for them. Because it meant Hermann stayed warm and Newt had his required bodily contact.

Newt tightens his hold on him incrementally and stretches along his back. He’s waking up and this is going to make for an awkward morning after what had passed the night before, but they both roll onto their respective sides of the bed and say nothing of it. It’s better this way. Hermann only feels the smallest pang of regret when Newt rolls out of the bed and immediately pads to the bathroom.

He remains in bed, looking through his phone idly. When Newt emerges, freshly showered and wrapped in one of the hotel robes, he refuses to glance up at him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see him. The barest, faintest pang of  _ want  _ courses through him, despite every desire for it to be otherwise. He wants to push Newt down onto the bed and strip him out of the robe, to press into him and have him one last time. Newt doesn’t want that, though, and the want is quickly replaced with something like shame. Will he ever want someone else? He hopes so, which is progress, though it may be small.

“About last night,” Newt says, inspecting his shirt for the day.

“Yes?”

“You’re right. Everything I did was selfish and cowardly and I’m trying to learn from that. I’m trying to learn what it means to not always run away from problems.”

“You are thirty five years old, I’d have thought you’d learn by now.”

“I haven’t.”

“I am sorry, Newton, if you found me lacking as a partner- as a husband. I did not intend to make you doubt anything.”

“No, Hermann.” Newt shakes his head. “I think I was searching for things to use, excuses, made up reasons to doubt you because I was scared and I was a coward.”

Hermann frowns. The implication that Newt had fallen out of love with him some time before he left stings, that he was looking for excuses to leave instead of the most obvious reason of all. 

“Well, there’s no use discussing it now, right? I’ve said my piece and I’ve agreed to pretend to be disgustingly in love with you today and that’s what we shall do.”

“Well, the wedding’s not until two, so we’ve got time to ignore each other before you have to start playing pretend.”

Hermann’s not sure, but he thinks there’s a sadness to Newt’s tone when he speaks.

 

Newt looks uncommonly, unfairly good dressed up for the occasion. The suit is a rental, but it fits him perfect. Newt looks like a dream, he’s even bothered to put on a waistcoat for the occasion. He does, however, fumble with his bowtie, and fix it awkwardly. Hermann will have none of that and takes it in his hands to adjust it.

“You look very handsome today, Newton,” he says, trying not to make it sound something like “Can I kiss you?”

“Thanks, dude,” Newt replies, softly. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Hermann thinks his own suit is ill fitting, probably too tight in the legs and just a bit short in the arms. He's not trying to impress anyone, that was never his style or his choice.

“Did you shave?” Hermann asks, detecting the distinctively peppermint scent of Newt's aftershave.

“Just cleaned it up a bit. Was looking a bit beardy.”

“Mhm.” He pats the lapels of Newt's jacket, smoothing them down. “I’ve always been a bit partial to the beard.”

Smiling, Newt ducks his head to hide his expression. It’s too late, though, because Hermann sees both the grin and the pink that tinges Newt’s cheeks. The expression doesn’t make his reaction seem all that unwanted, though, which makes something bloom across Hermann’s chest. Despite everything, Newt may love him still, even to some small degree. Maybe he’s been wrong all this time.

“I think it makes me look more manly, at the very least,” Newt answers.

“No matter what, you look good.”

Hermann tries not to watch too closely to see if Newt blushes again. He can’t bring himself to dwell on this possibility when there’s still so much hurt between them.

“Shall we go head out then, Herms? We want to get good seats and all that.”

They take a cab to the church, where they’re ushered inside and told to sit where they choose. Hermann doesn’t recall the last time he was in a church, probably at a wedding before the war. They’re always so foreign to him, something unfamiliar to his own understanding of the world, but this church looks beautiful with its ornate floral arrangements and candles lit in midday. His own wedding, by contrast, was small; two men standing in a courthouse. Newt had insisted that Hermann stepped on a glass but to this day Hermann’s not sure if it was out of respect for Hermann’s traditions or Newt’s own desire for destruction.

The wedding itself is brief and beautiful, there’s laughter in the vows and Hermann finds himself leaning forward to catch every word. He wants to believe that someone can fall in love and stay in love forever, he wants to believe the lie.

“Dude,” Newt says, once the ceremony is over. “Are you crying?”

Without comment, Hermann wipes at his eyes, not daring to actually look over at Newt. “I don’t see what the issue with crying at a wedding is.”

“Just didn’t think you were the sort to get emotional over this sort of thing. Or most sorts of things.”

“I take marriage very seriously,” Hermann says, trying not to snap at him. He wants to let him know something, but he can’t exactly work out what. 

“I never implied you didn’t.” Newt holds up a hand in something akin to surrender. “I think it’s a- it’s a great and beautiful thing for them to have each other in this way. They were basically made for each other.”

“A comforting thought, no doubt. That two people can be perfectly crafted for one another.”

He can’t say anything for certain, but Hermann thinks he sees Newt wipe his eyes like he’s crying. After spending this whole trip wishing Newt felt regret of any sort, he suddenly feels awful at the prospect of Newt actually living with that regret. Love is forgiving where it needs to be, Hermann’s realized. In time, he wants to forgive.

 

As with all weddings, the time between the ceremony and the meal seems to stretch on for hours longer than necessary. They’re seated at a table with some people they recognize, but otherwise alone from any friendly faces. People who don’t even know they have approached, asking how they’re doing and about their life together. Newt’s a masterful performer, now that he’s gotten through the initial hump of the day before. Hermann lets him talk and take the lead, because it’s honestly what would be expected in the situation.

His part is to rest a hand on Newt’s and try to not look too miserably hungry before their pasta dishes arrive. He’s started to give into the urge to appear as miserable as he feels when a photographer approaches.

“Smile, you two,” the man says, holding up his camera.

Hermann only scowls more deeply, but Newt places an arm around the back of his chair and leans in closer. His expression shifts to something else, something warm despite himself.

“Maybe just a kiss from the happy couple?” the photographer asks.

They share a glance for a moment. Hermann’s more willing than he’d initially thought, but Newt finds the middle ground, plants a big kiss on his cheek before he pulls away.

“Are we going to see that in a tabloid in a few weeks then?” Newt’s biting back a cheeky grin.

“Legally I’m not allowed to, tempting as that may be,” the photographer’s tone is teasing and he lifts up the camera to review the photo before sliding away.

“Sorry, that was over the line,” Newt says quietly. “I just wanted him to go away.”

“It’s- it’s fine, Newton.” Hermann doesn’t venture to look at him though.

“I just- after last night- the fact that you’re even still doing this is sort of mind boggling to me, dude.”

“I’d committed to the lie already, hadn’t I? The last thing I need is my name dragged down further, or my humiliation and heartbreak brought forward to all of these people. Let’s just continue as we planned, yes?”

The plan really sounds unappealing, especially the part where he never sees Newt again. The prospect of that seems unbearable at moments and his breath catches in his throat when he thinks about it, so he chooses not to think about it at all.

“Yes, of course. Everything according to plan.”

They’re saved from further conversation by the arrival of the food, which also prompts conversations with the rest of the table. Hermann knows the plan is working when the person seated across from him gives them a look usually reserved for small animals or children. Newt’s retelling a completely made up story about a beach trip they allegedly took this summer, with Hermann becoming deeply sunburned despite wearing sunscreen. The story ends with a suggestive comment about aloe gel and a not forced blush on Hermann’s face.

“He works really hard,” Newt explains. “I mean, we both work, but he’s got this great work ethic, so it’s nice to take the time and get away for a few days or whatever. To make some time for us.” He grasps Hermann’s hand and gives him one of those heartbreaking smiles. Oddly, instead of hurting, it feels as though it heals something deep inside. For a moment, Hermann thinks the impossible has happened and he’s gotten over his love, but it remains as strong and deep as ever/

No, what he feels is the utter comfort of Newt's affections. How easily they come, even now. He hates Newt as much as he loves him in that moment, beaming at him in a way he forfeited the right to. Could he forgive Newt enough to give him the right again? Is what he’s picking up that Newt would want that? Or perhaps he’s just playing the part very well.

“Nonsense,” Hermann adds. “We both work rather hard and I admit that sometimes I am...wrapped up in my work. But I also strive to always spend time with you. To show you how I feel, and I hope you don’t find failings in this.”

“Maybe some time ago, but I understand you now.”

The thought strikes Hermann and does not leave him, that Newt is telling the complete and utter truth in that moment.

“Understanding is the foundation of any relationship,” the man across from them idly remarks. “So are we to expect any big announcements from you two soon?”

Newt shakes his head. “I don’t want to change a single thing about our relationship, except to spend more time together.”

Everyone else seems to find this a sickeningly sweet enough answer to the question and they change the topic to more mundane things. It’s amazing how much movies seem to talk up these concepts of pretend, as though all eyes are magically going to be on them because they’re lying. Or maybe it’s nothing to Hermann because it’s something that was once familiar to them.

Or it’s because, ultimately, a wedding is about two people and they are not those two people. Hermann leans his head on his hands during Mako and Raleigh’s first dance, the way they move across the floor so elegantly, so very in tune with each other. It’s not just the residual effects of the drift, it’s the impact of love and understanding and two people who know how to laugh at each other and how to love each other. He envies them, but not enough to be anything but blissfully happy for them, for what they’ve found together.

He turns to Newt, but he’s staring off in some indefinite space, not quite at them but not really at anything else. Lost in his thoughts. Hermann puts a hand on his leg and squeezes, just to bring him back to himself.

“Do you remember that night in the kitchen?” Newt asks softly. “When I tried to make you dance?”

“Newton-”

“I don’t think there will ever be a happier moment in my life than that moment.”

Hermann turns his gaze back to the dance floor. That was, in many ways, their first dance. Their only dance. He turns to Newt to speak again but Newt cuts him off.

“Do you want something to drink?” Newt asks. “Red wine, right? Not too sweet.”

“Oh, thank you.” He smiles tightly at him, not remembering what he wanted to say. It seemed very important in the moment, but it’s gone now.

As Newt fetches them new drinks, Hermann’s given the distance to refocus, re-evaluated. They’re at a wedding so it’s easy to get sentimental. Newt’s being sweet so it’s easy to forget. But last night Newt had laid out his reasons for leaving, and they still come up short. There’s still so much to make up, and if Hermann focuses on the anger he feels he doesn’t have to worry about being hurt again, because it feels like he’s teetering so close to the edge of being hurt badly.

After the first dance, they dance floor opens and Hermann tells Newt that he’s free to go and dance, to enjoy himself as he chooses. Even if Hermann didn’t have the cane, he wouldn’t want to dance much, it’s not his style, he much prefers to observe. (And he can and does dance just fine with or without the cane, thank you very much.) Newt’s jacket is now draped across the back of his chair and his waistcoat and bowtie seem likely to join it soon, but Hermann doesn’t mind. He made it through the ceremony and that’s what really matters, after all, and if he happens to like the way Newt looks with his shirt sleeves rolled up, that’s neither here nor there.

Newt loves to dance, to move around the floor and gyrate his hips and act like he understands rhythm. The whole thing makes for good entertainment, when Hermann watches him on the dance floor. He convinces a few people to dance with him and it’s amusing to see the way he adapts his movements based on his partner. Or attempts to. Neither the bride or groom are immune from a dance, both swept in an overdramatic pantomime of waltzing by turns that leaves them laughing breathlessly before Newt bows out and leaves them to their own devices.

He returns to Hermann after this, sitting close to him at their table, a bit short of breath, which he remedies with a swig of Hermann’s wine. (HIs own glass is already drained.) This is not for sure, this is not to prove to some strangers and friends they are happy together, everyone else has left their table. No, this is Newt leaning in close to Hermann and telling him about his last half hour and Hermann listening happily. This is dangerous but Hermann’s beyond caring.

The switch happens then, the music slows. The obnoxious emcee hired for the evening announces that it’s time for a couple’s dance, a celebration of love. No one would question them sitting this out, but Newt stands and offers his hand anyway. Hermann looks from Newt’s hand to where his cane is resting against the table. Newt knows, he realizes, how to hold him and support him for a short time. Even a Newt that’s broken his heart wouldn’t let him fall.

They stay close to table, far from the center of the dance floor, and it’s no better than the soft swaying they’d done in the kitchen months ago. Newt’s hand has settled on Hermann’s left hip and the other clasps his hand as they move to the music.

“Knew I could get you to dance,” Newt says, low and teasing.

“I’m not opposed to the concept, I simply prefer to reserve my energy.”

“So you reserve the energy to dance with me?”

Hermann scowls. He’d rather not be teased like this right now. “I mean, it’s part of the act tonight, isn’t it?”

“That’s sort of the thing, Herms. This isn’t an act, is it?”

The world freezes in that moment. Hermann’s burning red with anger because how dare Newt expose him like this? How dare he mock his feelings that he’s been trying so hard to conceal? How dare he- oh. Newt’s expression is not teasing, it’s raw, it’s honest.  This is not an act for either of them and they’re both utter fools for this. Newt must catch some sympathy, some understanding in his look because he leans in then, boldly kisses Hermann right there on the dance floor. Hesitation isn’t a consideration as Hermann kisses him back, feels a sense of completion he hasn’t felt for a long while.

Then the kiss is done and everything’s crashing down and Newt’s backing away like some wounded animal, heading away towards the nearest exit. Hermann swears under his breath, passing after him as quickly as he can, but he has to stop and grab his cane which delays him.

“Newton, stop!” he calls after him, once Newt’s pressed out of the front door, standing just outside of the entrance in the chilly air.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry.” Newt holds up two hands, as if in self defense or surrender.

“Don’t run away from me again,” is all Hermann says, feeling breathless. “I’m so angry with you, you have no idea.”

“I said I was sorry! I really didn’t mean to kiss you, it just happened, it just- I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing for the wrong thing. Please don’t ever be sorry for that, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you regret that.”

“You didn’t mind?”

“Do you remember what I said the last time we danced like that? I meant every word.” His hands are shaking and he has to place both in a death grip on his cane to keep from it becoming obtrusive.

Newt doesn’t say the words, but he mouths them, quietly, gently, with a reverent sweetness.  _ For all of my days. _

“I didn’t ask you here to keep from being embarrassed,” Newt admits, sagging with something like defeat. “My motivations were still selfish, though. I wanted to see you again, and see if you still- still cared for me. But I don’t deserve it, dude. I’m- I treated you like garbage.”

“You did and there are things that I’m going to have to work hard on forgiving you for.”

“The papers?”

“That’s a big one, yes.”

“I never submitted ‘em.”

“Newton.”

“At first I just didn’t check with the front desk for a few weeks, partially because I was afraid they’d be there. I don’t know, I guess I had this weird thought that if I went through with them, you’d get angry and fight the issue, which is shitty of me. You were being respectful of my feelings but then anyway, but then I had just not gotten around to it and then I remembered the wedding and…”

“You can’t just conceal from a man that he’s still legally married to you!”

“I’ll file them as soon as we get back to Boston, I promise.” Newt’s answer is both genuine and a bit cheeky, too confident in Hermann’s regard for him.

“Don’t you bloody dare.” Hermann’s hands, no longer shaking, both rise to Newt’s face, cupping it in his hands. It’s Newt that protests when the cane clatters to the ground, but the protest is swallowed in a kiss, warm and eager and promising more. Always more. It’s minutes later when they pull away fully, laughing like teenagers sharing a very first kiss.

“Can I come home?” Newt asks, once the air is still again, once the joy has floated from their mouths into the sky, painting New York City in a much more pleasant light.

 

They leave the reception early, which had always been the intention, but now they have a completely different goal in mind. Well, now they intend to do what was only going to be implied. The short distance to the hotel room was enough of a trial, and they never quite got to removing all of their clothing, Newt’s still in his shirt (he’s at least managed to unbutton it) and Hermann’s got those ridiculous sock garters and socks on, but it’s still perfect.

“Darling, I-” Hermann’s breath catches as Newt nips at his earlobe. “My leg is-”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Let me be on top for a bit, hmm?” Newt answers, running his hands down Hermann’s back to cup his ass. “Gonna be easier to get me off that way, anyway.”

Hermann rolls over, trying not to be too smug about the way Newt groans when he slips out of him. He arranges the hotel pillows comfortably so he’s seated but supported and Newt wastes no time climbing into his lap, realigning their bodies and slipping down onto him.

“For the record, we’re only doing it this way because all the stuff is back home.” Newt braces himself against Hermann’s shoulders as he starts to rock. “Because I know you probably missed being fucked more than you missed fucking me.”

Instead of replying he snorts and thrusts up into Newt, causing him to moan loudly. Newt loves to talk during sex, to narrate, to tease, to say things that are both filthy and ridiculous. No amount of fantasizing can live up to this.

“I do miss the way you like to parade around with the strap-on on, but that’s not precisely the same thing, Newton,” he says at length.

“Alright, bud. No man should still be able to say precisely while inside of me, so let’s fix this, hmm?”

Newt starts to roll his hips in earnest, setting up a steady rhythm as he leans back, bracing himself on the bed now. Hermann uses the bit of extra distance to rub at his clit, stroking it between two fingers, using Newt’s own wetness to smooth the touch. Newt’s already come once tonight from his fingers, but this is going to be perfect.

“Do I just keep using- ah, large words to get you to fuck yourself harder on my cock, hmm?”

This elicits a moan and Newt’s hips stutter forward, against his fingers. “I nearly forgot that you’re a dirty talking fuck, honey.”

Hermann grips onto Newt’s hip with his free hand, rocking him down harder on his cock. Newt’s legs are tense around him and he knows it’ll only take a little bit more to push him over the edge, so he rubs harder and says the three most beautiful words he can think of. As he’s pushed over the edge, Newt whines out Hermann’s name.

It’s not simultaneous, but rather because of Newt’s orgasm that Hermann follows shortly after. The noise he makes has no dignity, it’s base and raw as he thrusts up into the tightness of Newt and comes and then, for a few moments, the world remains alarmingly still. They both learn how to breathe normally again and Newt climbs off of him clumsily before he excuses himself to the bathroom.

He’s gone for longer than Hermann remembers him usually taking and he feels the first tendrils of panic unfold in his chest until Newt emerges, looking almost bashful, but now devoid of his shirt. 

“Come back to bed,” Hermann mumbles.

Newt does slip back into bed, but he nudges Hermann gently. “You know the rules, you gotta go too.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you’re back in my life to remind me to take a piss after sex,” he answers cheekily.

He stands slowly and moves to the bathroom to clean-up and remove his socks. It’s not the awkwardest clothing choice he’s had in a sexual encounter with Newt. He’s welcomed back into the bed with open arms, winding around him as gracelessly as a cat desperate for attention.

“You do really mean that I can come home, right?” Newt asks hesitantly, even as he’s pressing kisses along Hermann’s chest.

“Of course I do, it’s your home. There’s nothing in the world I want more than for you to come home to me.”

Abruptly, Newt sits up, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t deserve this, do I? I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve-”

“This isn’t a matter of bloody deserving anything, Newton. Yes, you handled something very poorly and I am, even at this moment when you’re tender and soft, very angry with you about this. But I’m not going to let that get in the way of our happiness together. And I have to admit, within myself, that even if I felt I was behaving as a perfect husband, if you felt there was something lacking, we should discuss this.”

“You were a perfect everything, Hermann.” Newt settles back down and Hermann wraps an arm around him.

“That’s very kind of you to say, darling. Let’s just try a few sessions where, instead of us both separately talking to our therapists, we talk to one together, yes?”

“You go to therapy?” Newt glances over at him.

“Not because of what happened, but that was a catalyst. Believe it or not I was very sad about you leaving, but still functional.”

“I was a mess for the first few weeks. Crying all the time, forgetting to do things like laundry or cook. Thankfully I was only teaching one summer class then.”

“I don’t know what thought was worse for me, you leaving because I did something fundamentally wrong, or you leaving because you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It was neither,” Newt says, as though that’s not obvious.

Hermann drops a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, Schatz. Let’s talk about this on the train ride in the morning, hmm?”

“Mm, I think that sounds like a plan.” Newt’s arm wraps around his midsection a bit closer, like he’s keen on never letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is a brief epilogue to round this out, kids!


	5. Chapter 5

Having Newt back in the house is a strange experience. To some degree, Hermann’s gotten used to the silence of living with himself. Nothing about Newt is silence, the man is a walking whirlwind of sound and sensation and while Hermann loves to get caught up in it, it’s unfamiliar territory. On the first day, they stop by Newt’s apartment to pick up enough clothes to get him through the week, but Newt still has left plenty at the house otherwise. It’s like his every action proved that he was just waiting for the invitation to come home, without actually asking for it.

Monday morning is really when it all hits him, when the alarm blares and Newt grumbles and begs to snooze just ten more minutes and Hermann can’t help himself but wake Newt by covering his face in kisses. They both end up staying in bed for longer than they should, but both of them miraculously get to work on time.

They don’t have time to rediscover their routine for the first few days, as they load Hermann’s car up with things from Newt’s apartment and then consolidate them with their shared space. Newt’s insistent he’ll find someone to sublease the space, but something about the apartment still being in Newt’s name makes Hermann fearful in a way he can’t articulate to Newt just yet. Paying out the remainder of a lease is not financially wise, after all, and if there’s another tenant, Newt can’t just pack up and move in again. Some wounds take time to heal, and there aren’t easy fixes. Hermann’s working on making peace with this.

Saturday is the first day he wakes to an empty bed. There’s a moment of panic, a fear that he’s going to wander around the house to find it empty yet again, but he doesn’t allow himself to indulge that fear. He pulls on his robe and steps into his slippers, it’s very cold in the mornings now and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to Boston winters. Newt doesn’t seem to mind the cold any more than he minds anything else, he’s an adaptable man.

When Newt’s not in the living room or kitchen, he does let the panic rise to his chest but then a moment of clarity comes through. Hermann steps out the sliding doors into their yard to where Newt kneels, pulling the dead herbs out of the garden.

“You don’t have any sense of what to do with a man who loves you in your bed on a Saturday morning, do you?” he says, giving Newt’s ass an appreciative glance.

Newt turns and grins, wiping off his gloves before he stands. “I wanted to let you sleep in a bit, I know we were up rather late last night.”

“Then what are you doing up and in the garden so early? It’s cold.” Hermann wraps his robe around himself more tightly. At least Newt’s wearing his coat.

“Pulling the herbs you let die, babe. Next spring I’m going to get them perfect. I’ve got it all figured out.”

“What’s the secret?”

“Oh, no. My secrets don’t come free. You gotta pay a very hefty sum for them.”

Hermann rolls his eyes and steps forward so he can kiss him good morning. Newt’s warm and pliant in his arms.

“Is that enough?”

“I think it’s a down payment. But I was actually thinking we could have one of those fancy weddings and then-”

“Oh no.” Hermann laughs despite himself. “We have to tell everyone that we’re married.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Newt pulls him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Just fake it and say we’re getting married first time ‘round then and it’ll be-”

“Let’s be honest, hmm? Tell them we did it in secret in March, and then as a compromise we can continue to lie about the separation.” It’s easier to phrase it that way than the to lay it out so plainly. Another thing to discuss in therapy. Relationships aren’t about being perfect as they are, though, they’re about progress.

Newt hums in agreement, kisses Hermann’s chin. “I don’t mind if we decide to tell them. I mean, you don’t have to do it for my sake. I’m...learning from my mistakes.”

“Well, we have time to figure out what we’d like to do, for now I’m going to ask that you come back out of the cold and come back to bed.”

“Oh?”

“I’m planning to make a full payment to find out the secret about the herbs.”

Taking Hermann’s hand, Newt leads him back into their house. They’ve got time to sort out the herbs and the marriage and everything else. This beautiful morning is about being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on twitter or tumblr to find info on maybe how to get your own fic written by me (wow!)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ pendragoff and twitter @ newtguzzler


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